


Red Ink

by starrylizard



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Cold Open Challenge, Episode: s01e12, Gen, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Hurt Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylizard/pseuds/starrylizard
Summary: Written for the Cold Open Challenge on Tumblr. Takes place after the opening scene of S01e12, but before the actual episode.Jack has been drugged, Mac has been shot, and exfill isn't ready.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 66





	Red Ink

Title: RED INK

Author: Starrylizard

Fandom: MacGyver (2016)

Rated: Teen.

Based on the opening scene for 1x12 - [Link to video on Tumblr](https://starrylizard.tumblr.com/post/622881460185153537/1x12-cold-open)

Follow link to the lovely cover art by Impossiblepluto on Tumblr: [Link](https://starrylizard.tumblr.com/post/622884416335872000/red-ink-starrylizard-macgyver-tv-2016)

\----M----

He’d taken too long. Not that he’d liked the idea of using Jack as bait at any point, but it was meant to be a quick snatch and follow. But following a GPS signal through a maze of slums turned out to be harder than predicted. When the GPS signal completely disappeared, MacGyver had thought for a moment his worst nightmare was about to come true. Finding the set of concrete bunkers that the signal had disappeared into was probably more luck than skill, but MacGyver was not about to question it. Big dumb-looking guards positioned in front of otherwise innocuous doors would always be a neon sign for ‘bad stuff this way lurks’ and today MacGyver was definitely happy that was the case. 

“Hey Mac, long hallway, last one on the left…” Jack’s languid, yet loud, voice carried down the hallway. Honestly MacGyver had already been following the overly energetic singing, so he knew which room Jack was being held in, but that was definitely his cue to act.

From there, it was just a few notes under the door, some fake blood and . . . one of the shots through the door ricocheted off the wall and skimmed along MacGyver’s thigh. He grunted, feeling the sting only distantly with all the adrenaline flowing through his system. He quickly moved into position in time to send a well-thrown punch at the bad guy as the door opened. His hand would definitely be bruised later. Then, before he knew it, he was undoing the ropes binding Jack to a chair and suddenly on the receiving end of a rather emotional Jack bear hug.

“I love you buddy!”

“I love you too, big guy.” MacGyver gave Jack a few solid thumps to the back.

“I thought for a minute there. I really thought you might’ve been shot and I just never want to think that. I love you man and I thought I got you killed and that’s the opposite of my job, you know and . . .” Jack sniffed and gave MacGyver another big squeeze, scrubbing a hand through his blonde hair like he was a kid.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, big guy. I’m good, I’m here. I was more worried about you. Sorry I’m late to the party.” MacGyver managed to gently pull back enough from the hug that they could make eye contact. Jack’s eyes were glassy and he looked like he was only just holding back tears. “I gotcha, okay. Let’s get you off this drip and we’ll get out of here.” 

Jack nodded, watching passively, one hand still holding on to MacGyver’s jacket, as MacGyver slid the needle free from Jack’s arm and carefully bandaged the puncture wound. 

“What about you? Is your hand okay, Mac? You really hit that guy. It was great!” Jack reached out to bump fists with MacGyver, but almost face-planted as the rest of his body tried to follow the movement.

“All good Jack, I promise. Let’s get you out of here, alright.”

Most of the bad guys were disoriented or bound already, especially if they’d been in MacGyver’s way previously, and they had people on the ground already moving in to deal with what was left of the less than friendly smugglers. But those same people had orders to ignore the obviously non-local agents and pretend they had never been there. At least it meant Mac could focus on Jack.

Jack was singing quietly ( _Shoop shoop ba-doops shoop ba-doop . . ._ ), but fading fast as they wove like drunks out of the bunker into the harsh sun. He was slowly putting more and more weight on MacGyver as he seemed to concentrate on singing and putting one foot in front of the other, in that order of importance. The buildings of the slum around them were barely buildings, held together with more improvisation and desperation, tin and string, than MacGyver had probably used in his entire life, and that was saying something. Once outside the concrete maze, the comms signal kicked back in and Director Thornton’s voice came with it.

“ _. . . yver, do you copy?”_ From the tone of her voice the phrase has been repeated many times.

MacGyver reached for his earpiece to respond. “Good to hear your voice. I’ve got Jack and we’re ready for that evac. flight. I haven’t received the coordinates yet.”

_“There’s an issue, MacGyver.”_ Thornton, as always, was direct and to the point. _“We’re having trouble with some paperwork with the local authorities. In short, they noticed it’s not quite legitimate. We’ll sweet talk them, don’t worry, but until we get it sorted, we can’t have you turning up at the airfield just in case.”_

Jack had stopped his humming and was also listening intently to his own radio. “Tell her, we’re in the middle . . . we’re in the middle of a . . .” Jack looked around, leaning further into MacGyver’s side with a grunt. “. . . a bad place,” he finished unconvincingly, his eyelids sliding to half-mast.

MacGyver jostled Jack gently. “Whoa! Keep your eyes open, Jack; I can’t carry you.”

“Have you got somewhere nearby that’s safe for use to hole up?” MacGyver asked, turning his attention back to Thornton. “They drugged Jack pretty good before I got there. Sodium pentothal at least, possibly other things. We’re not going to be able to keep moving for long.”

_“We’ve got a safehouse nearby. Riley will guide you there, she’s co-opted a satellite and we can see vehicles behind the compound you just came out of that are old enough that they should be easy for you to hotwire.”_

_“Hey Mac, good to hear your voice. You’re gonna want to turn left and head down the first alley and you’ll hit a dirt parking area.”_ Riley’s voice immediately took over, guiding them efficiently to where they needed to go.

The car they’d taken bumped and rumbled over the dirt road. The windows were down part-way, a necessity in the stifling heat, but also required to clear some of the smell of burning oil and exhaust fumes they’d been greeted with when MacGyver finally managed to get the car started. Jack had whooped woozily in the middle of a “shoop ba-doop” for that feat of hot-wiring. “That’s my boy!” Then promptly passed out in the passenger seat.

As MacGyver drove, he put pressure on his thigh with one hand, the sting more intense now that the adrenaline was wearing off, but the bleeding had definitely slowed. They drove, through crowded streets that suddenly thinned out into a less populated area interspersed small farms and finally came to rest near a small mud-brick house. A goat bleated a greeting. The Phoenix Foundation used a symbol to mark their safehouses, in this case it was painted, clearly visible for anyone who knew what it was, into the colours of a small mailbox out front.

_“You should be there, Mac.”_ Riley’s voice was feint, her satellite connection slowly moving further out of range.

“Got it, Riles. Thanks for your help as always.” 

_“Mac, be careful. Look after Ja . . .”_ The connection dropped out with a final rough burst of static that made MacGyver wince. There were other ways to connect if an emergency arose, but for the moment, they were on their own.

MacGyver looked at Jack’s sleeping form. The older man was slumped down uncomfortably in the passenger seat. He was breathing slow and steady, but his face was overly flushed despite the breeze the lowered window had provided. Now that they were stopped, it was also obvious that Jack was shivering, small tremors running though his body as he twitched and huffed in his drug-induced slumber. He’d partially woken a few times on the drive, but seemed to slide back to sleep once he realised it was MacGyver doing the driving.

“Hey Jack? We’re here.” MacGyver opened the car door and moved around to open the passenger door, crouching down next to Jack. “Jack?” He placed a hand on his shoulder, carefully. He was attempting not to startle the bigger man. He’d learned the hard way not to startle Jack out of a deep sleep back when they served together in the sandbox.

Jack grunted slightly, but otherwise showed no sign of consciousness.

“Jack, come on now. You’re scaring me, big guy. I can’t carry you. I’ll pull a muscle or something.”

This time Jack’s grunt was a bit more like an answer, he brought his head up slightly and squinted at MacGyver.

\----J----

Jack woke to MacGyver’s voice, slumped in the passenger seat of a car, with no reference as to how he got there. His mouth tasted like death and felt like cotton wool, and he grunted in disgust as he found his limbs heavy and hard to move. He recognised this feeling, of course. In his line of work, he’d found himself in surgery or worse at times, but that didn’t seem to be the case here.

“Jack, come on now. You’re scaring me, big guy. I can’t carry you. I’ll pull a muscle or something,” MacGyver was talking and Jack started to take some of his words in.

This time when Jack managed a grunt, he meant _‘not on my watch.’_ He forced his muscles to action and managed to bring his head up enough to squint at MacGyver. What little of the bright sunlight that made it into his half-closed eyes began amping up a headache that felt like it was just getting started.

“Exactly, you’d hate for me to get hurt just because you wanted to sleep a little longer out here in the car. Let’s get you inside and comfy on an actual bed. I assume the safehouse has a bed.” MacGyver kept rambling as if Jack’s grunt had been something intelligible; maybe to him it was.

Jack knew MacGyver had learnt the hard way back in Afghanistan not to wake him up without some sort of warning unless he wanted to risk a fist to the face. He figured the rambling was therefore, for both their benefit. Although he was clearly trying to cajole Jack to move and making light of the situation, MacGyver sounded worried too, and it was that realisation that got Jack really trying to engage his unwilling body.

“Mac?” Jack asked, pushing the words out of his uncooperative mouth, as he tried to lever his even less cooperative body around to get out of the car. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” MacGyver asked, surprised. “Probably the drugs, Jack. It took us . . . It took _me_ longer to find you than planned. They dosed you with sodium pentothal. You were pretty lucid when I found you, though, if chatty.”

With MacGyver’s help, pretty soon Jack was stumbling along like a sleep-walking toddler, but at least he was mostly moving under his own steam. His brain too was trying to fill in the blanks. He remembered agreeing to be the bait in Thornton’s half-baked plan. Allowing himself to get captured, punching and kicking the whole way to make sure they bought it. Everything was a bit hazy after that, like coming up through water. There was singing, he’d rambled on a bit, then blood under the doorway. _Shit! Blood under the doorway!_

Jack came to an abrupt halt about a meter from the doorway and MacGyver was lucky to keep them both upright. “You bleeding, Mac?” He asked.

“What?” MacGyver sounded a little startled by the sudden question.

“I remember blood, seeping under the doorway. A lot of blood.”

“Oh.” MacGyver sounded weirdly relieved. “Chocolate sauce and red pen ink,” he explained. Fooled your captor pretty well and he opened the door. I punched him out.”

“Oh.” Jack stumbled forward again at MacGyver’s insistence and they were soon inside.

The safehouse was a one-room affair. A couple of army cots were pushed together to one side atop a colourful rug. A small table and eating area including fresh bottles of water was tucked in the corner. A few shelves of supplies lined another wall, including the usual box that would hold the first aid supplies. All of it was made to look as inconspicuous as possible to avoid the interest of thieves. MacGyver helped Jack to the nearest cot and Jack dropped down onto it with a grunt. He laid there with one arm propping up his incredibly heavy head and with the distinct feeling he may have just run a marathon.

Despite his body’s clear push to go back to sleep, he forced his tired eyes open and began tracking MacGyver’s movement around the room as he fetched a water bottle for each of them. There was something off about the way Mac was moving, but he was just too tired to figure it out.

“You should rehydrate and then get some rest, Jack. You really don’t look too good.”

MacGyver cracked open the seal on the water bottle and held it out to him. Jack couldn’t help but feel thankful for this small mercy. In truth, he wasn’t sure he had the strength right now to deal with a water bottle seal, just holding it to his lips felt like hard work. The water felt amazing sliding down his dry throat.

“I always look good,” Jack quipped tiredly. He didn’t notice when MacGyver just managed to catch the bottle as it slipped quietly from his fingers.

There was so much blood. He could smell the tang of copper as it seeped, red as ink, under the doorway, mixing into the dirt floor as it moved ever closer to the chair he was tied to. Jack squirmed, desperately kicking and pulling at the scratchy ropes that bound him in place and prevented him from reaching his charge who was clearly bleeding out on the other side of the door. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He needed to get free.

“Mac! Mac?” He cried out helplessly. “Mac!”

“Your guy doesn’t seem to be as smart as you think.” His captor pointed at the blood and smirked. Then he threw his head back and laughed maniacally.

Jack continued to struggle. He somehow got one of his arms loose, then a leg. He saw a brief glimpse of fear on his captor’s face, no longer laughing, before he kicked out hard. A grunt of pain followed.

“Ugh. Jack! Jack!”

“Mac?” Jack awoke with a start and no idea where he was. He’d been in the process of striking out again, as the voice he heard suddenly registered and he stilled automatically. “Mac? You okay?”

Jack looked around, taking in the small one-room house. The safe-house, he remembered. And he clenched his hands, trying to still the trembling in them, his heart still beating fast from the adrenaline-fuelled nightmare. He brought his attention back to MacGyver. There had been so much blood.

“That fake blood sure made an impression on you, huh. It’s been the same nightmare over again. Now that I know it’s so realistic-looking, I’ll have to sell the recipe to Bozer for his next movie.”

Jack looked hard at MacGyver and MacGyver’s voice softened with whatever he saw in Jack’s eyes. “Yeah man, it’s me. We’re in the safe house, remember? You back with me?” MacGyver was panting slightly. He was sprawled out on the floor near the end of the cot that Jack was lying on. His lip was bleeding and he was holding his thigh, his brow creased in an expression Jack knew meant that he was in pain. 

“Shit! Did I hurt you?” Jack scrambled to get his limbs moving as it dawned on him who must have really grunted in pain as he lashed out. It was an uncoordinated thing, but he managed to get himself down on the floor next to Mac. He lifted Mac’s head up gently, so he could check out the split lip in the dim light of the room.

MacGyver seemed to calmly allow the intrusion of his personal space, letting Jack turn his head this way and that without protest. Eventually though, Mac brought one arm up and placed the back of his hand to Jack’s forehead. Jack stilled, not quite sure what to make of the gesture.

“I think your fever’s broken,” MacGyver stated quietly.

“What?” Jack asked. “You’re the one bleeding, let me look.”

MacGyver acquiesced, lifting his hand from his thigh, where fresh red blood was beginning to show through a . . . through a bullet-sized hole in his trousers, Jack realised, and through the otherwise white bandages beneath that.

“It’s fine, Jack. I have it under control. It just started up again . . .”

A sick feeling made its way up from the pit of Jack’s stomach and it had nothing to do with drugs or any fever. No, he’d clearly struck out in his sleep and now Mac was paying the price. “Oh man, I’m so sorry. I thought I was escaping to get to you. I was striking out at that smarmy guy in the army jacket. I would never . . .”

“Jack. Hey, I know, man. It’s fine, really.” MacGyver put both hands out in the sort of calming gesture you might use on a wild animal. But the hand that had recently been used to put pressure on his thigh was still red with blood and Jack found he was not at all calmed or reassured.

“You’re bleeding,” Jack said again, eyes narrowing pointedly. “My memory is a bit hazy, but I’m pretty sure you insisted you weren’t bleeding.”

MacGyver winced. “Technically, I told you the blood under the doorway wasn’t real.”

“You know, it isn’t right to take advantage of a drugged man. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re hurt. That’s my job.”

Jack swept his eyes around the room, quickly locating the open first aid box on a nearby table. It took some effort and the room swam a little, but he got himself standing and made a less than straight line to it.

“This time, it was my job, Jack.” MacGyver’s voice followed Jack’s unsteady progress across the room. “I barely got you into the safehouse before you were out like a light again from all the drugs. Pretty sure they didn’t use very sterile equipment either, because you spiked a fever shortly after.”

As Jack turned, fresh bandages in hand, MacGyver pushed himself off the floor and sat heavily on the cot Jack had just vacated. He looked tired, if determined. It was only then that Jack noticed the room was lit only by a couple of oil lamps. The pink light of the rising sun was just starting to peek though the small windows.

“How long have we been here?” Jack asked.

“Part of the day, all of the night. Riley was in touch a few hours ago. They’re working on a new plan to get us out of here. Government won’t let our usual plane land at the airport.”

Jack nodded, then blinked rapidly as the movement made the world spin again.

“Jack sit down before you fall down. Please.” MacGyver shifted across on the cot, a clear invitation for Jack to join him. The space vacated even gave him access to MacGyver’s now bleeding wound.

“Yeah. Yeah okay. Good idea. Shuck those pants and we’ll add some more bandages.”

MacGyver snorted, but did as asked. Grimacing slightly as he did. “How are the ribs?” MacGyver asked, as Jack started wrapping yet another bandage firmly over the existing ones, hoping it’d be enough to stop the bleeding again.

“No point in pretending they didn’t rough you up prior to the drugging and interrogation. You’ve been out cold, wasn’t that hard to check you over.” MacGyver raised a hand pre-emptively as Jack opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t care if you’ve had worse. We’re stuck here for a while, Jack. May as well use the time to patch us both up. I have some duct tape, might be able to use it like Physio-tape to help keep your ribs stable. Help with the pain.”

Jack had half a mind to give a very exuberant lecture on hiding injuries, but he reconsidered. The image of blood flowing across sand was still weighing heavily on his mind, red ink or not, and he just wasn’t in the mood to argue. He tied off the bandage he had finished wrapping around Mac’s thigh.

“You’re so bossy!” he complained, trying to lighten the mood, and then slowly lifted his shirt. “Just so you know, I’m not cater-pilling, I just want you to lie down and stop bleeding asap and I’m pretty sure a kitten might be able to overpower me right now.”

MacGyver grinned. “Capitulating,” he corrected, just as Jack expected him too.

This time Jack noticed Mac didn’t try to hide his grimace, as the movement of reaching for his jacket to fish the duct tape out of its pocket pulled at his wound. Jack let him literally tape up his side, before ensuring MacGyver’s leg was elevated and then doing what he could to check the perimeter by carefully peering out each of the windows. He also checked the available ammo and stores. It wasn’t that MacGyver wouldn’t have done all this already. He just needed to feel useful, to redeem himself, and MacGyver seemed to understand. In between each thing, Jack sat down and waited for the world to stop spinning.

“It’s your turn to rest. I’ve slept enough,” he said, when Mac looked ready to complain. 

MacGyver frowned, but stayed quiet.

\----M----

By the time the sun was fully in the sky and their safehouse was getting uncomfortably hot again, Jack seemed to be feeling somewhat rested and back to himself. He’d been pacing between the various windows like a caged animal, humming Salt N Pepa tunes. MacGyver couldn’t say he didn’t feel it too. Doing nothing had never been a strong point for either man. MacGyver had managed to doze a little at least, which passed some of the time, exhausted from the previous night.

When their radios suddenly kicked in with a burst of static, they both sat up hopefully.

_“Hey guys, can you hear me?”_ MacGyver thought Riley’s voice was probably the best thing he had heard in a long time.

“We’re here, Riles.”

“Please tell us we have a flight to catch,” Jack added.

_“Uh, we’ve had to improvise. Still a no-go with the official airport, but our people on the ground have interrogated some of the smugglers you led us to. We now know where and how the drugs and people were being smuggled in. Nice little hidden airstrip, not far from you and no one is using it now, so we’re taking advantage. I’ll send you the coordinates and we’ll have the jet there in twenty.”_

“Riley, honey. I hope you know you’re one of my favourite people.” Jack pumped the air, then bumped fists with MacGyver. “Tell the pilot to pump the air conditioning. We’re coming home.”

\----END----

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope the ending isn't too sudden. I use Australian English.  
> I love comments!  
> Thanks so much for reading!


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